Hellsbane Hereafter (Entangled Select Otherworld)

by Paige Cuccaro

No. It didn’t make sense. If he didn’t trust me, why would he have made me Abram’s protector? The truth was there wasn’t much to spy on. Other than increasing his gibborim army, Jukar didn’t seem to have a master plan to win the war.

  The only thing I had left of any interest to offer had nothing to do with Jukar. Or did it? “The kid has a ring. The Ring of Solomon.”

  Michael looked at me. “How do you know?”

  “I saw it.”

  “No. How did you know it was the Ring of Solomon?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen it before. A friend told me it’s kind of like a supernatural dinner bell. Whoever wears it can use it to call up some pretty nasty baddies to do their bidding. The downside is that whatever they call up can slip through and take over the person’s body…and, y’know, eat their soul.”

  “It’s more of a leash than a dinner bell.” He turned his gaze up to the seagulls still jockeying for position in the darkness. “It can be used to rein in many things, but it is never so effective as when it’s used to control the thing for which it was made.”

  “What was it made to control?” The question stuck in my throat.

  “Angels,” he said simply.

  “Domina?” A male voice cut the silence behind us, and I twisted around to see Rumyal, Eli’s new best buddy, staring at me in pained confusion. Busted. Crap.

  “Rumyal, what are you doing here?” I stood and came around the end of the bench as quickly as I could. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize the angel I’d been sitting with.

  The Fallen blinked at me, butterscotch brows knitting above his blue eyes, his smile dimming. “I wondered the same thing about you. Are you the one who texted me? I didn’t recognize the number. Why are you sitting with the Right Hand?”

  I glanced back at Michael just as he tossed a bread crumb into the air. His head turned a fraction of an inch, and I caught a smirk flashing across his mouth. Had he called Rumyal? Why? And why had Rumyal called Michael the Right Hand? “The Right Hand of God,” I said out loud as my brain unscrambled the meaning.

  “Yes.” Rumyal drew his sword. “What’s going on? Does Elizal know you’re here? Does the archangel?” His smile flattened, the implications quickly mounting.

  “Rumyal, wait a minute. I can explain—”

  “Yes, Emma Jane, explain to the pitiful creature why you’re secretly meeting with the leader of the opposition.” Michael dug another bread crumb from the bag.

  “Thanks. You’re not helping.” I turned back to Rumyal. “Listen, it’s not what it looks like.”

  I inhaled, mouth open, ready to offer some plausible explanation, but nothing came to mind. My mouth snapped shut. It was exactly what it looked like. I was meeting with the enemy of the Fallen to feed him information that would help turn the war against them. I was doing it for Eli. I hadn’t even felt guilty about it until that very moment.

  The decision had been easy. I didn’t think about anyone else, the thousands of fallen angels who believed I was on their side, who trusted me, who’d grown to like me. I hadn’t even considered them. Worse, I hadn’t considered for a second that while I played 007, I’d grow to care about some of the very people I’d betray. Rumyal. Danjal. And several others back at the office.

  “Domina?” Rumyal asked, crestfallen.

  The pain in his eyes sliced through me like hot glass, shredding my insides. “You don’t understand. Michael’s going to help Eli get his grace back. I’ll explain more, but not right now. You have to leave, Rumyal. Please. Go home. I’ll meet you there.”

  Rumyal looked so innocent, so human, only a few years older than me, his golden hair neatly trimmed, his broad shoulders and muscled body showcased in his dark blue business suit. Except for the gleam off his sword, he looked every bit as human as I did. And I’d cut him to the core, my betrayal darkening his brilliant blue eyes, etching deep creases across his brow.

  “They’ll forgive Elizal? The Right Hand has told you this? Promised?” he asked as if even he could understand how the payoff might be worth the price.

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Michael said, and I turned to stare at the back of his head. “She’s received no guarantees, only the possibility. She betrays you and your wicked kin on the chance that she might glean something of value to trade for her lover’s grace. This, on the condition that Elizal repents of his own volition and sins no more. Tell her, Fallen, what is the likelihood that once an angel indulges in the pleasures of the flesh he will refuse such bliss again?”

  “None,” Rumyal said. “He will never refuse her. He will never truly repent his love and the acts that love inspired. It has never been done. It cannot be done.”

  “So she betrays you for nothing,” Michael said.

  Why did he say such things? “That’s not true. Eli doesn’t know. Michael won’t let me tell him. He won’t let me tell anyone. Rumyal, please. Just go home for now.”

  “If Eli deserved his grace, he wouldn’t need to be told.” Michael didn’t turn around but stared up into the darkness. “You risk a great deal for that which hinges on the desires and actions of another. If you, or he, were truly worthy of the reward you seek, you would aid our cause without condition. But the choice is yours.”

  “And if you and your buddies weren’t so judgmental and quick to shun, I wouldn’t have to make conditions.” I turned back to the Fallen. “Please, Rumyal. Don’t listen to him.”

  The Fallen’s dark and angry voice roared out of him. “I thought we were friends. I thought you, the archangel’s child, were different. But you’re no better than the rest of them, our children who turn their backs on us, who hunt us, banish us. No more.”

  The murderous look in his eyes was all the warning I got before he drew his sword. I drew mine, willing the blade to form. Rumyal was fast, but I was a heartbeat faster. My sword was up, blocking the Fallen’s strike. He recoiled and attacked again.

  I shuffled back, blocking, pushing him away. “Rumyal, stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The Fallen, my friend, snarled at me, crazed by his anger and pain. He attacked again, and I blocked then swung back, buying a few seconds while he switched from offense to defense.

  “I’m still your friend, Rumyal. Just calm down and let me explain,” I said, but he wouldn’t listen.

  Rumyal attacked, and I sidestepped, avoiding his charge, spinning as he passed, my sword up, ready. The fallen angel stumbled then found his footing, turning back to attack again.

  From the corner of my eye, I caught Michael’s movement. He stood, balling the bag of bread crumbs, tossing it into the nearby trash can. “Kill him, Emma Jane, and be done with it.”

  “What? No.” I glanced at him and back to Rumyal just in time to deflect another attack. If the Fallen got control of his anger, he’d stand a better chance of landing a blow. But as it was, Rumyal functioned on sheer rage.

  “You must,” Michael said. “He will expose you.”

  “He won’t. If he’ll just listen, I can explain. He’ll understand. He won’t blow my cover,” I said, talking to both men even as I struggled to keep Rumyal from running me through.

  “He will,” Michael argued. “He may have already. You betrayed him, woman. He has no love left for you. End him. Now. You’re running out of time. I want your cover intact. Without it, you’re useless to me. Without you, Elizal is lost.”

  “Are you the one who called him here?” I asked.

  Michael’s hard eyes met mine. “Yes. Now what is your decision? Kill him and save your lover? Or spare him and damn Elizal forever?”

  This was a fucking test? My attention focused on my friend. I’d said it a hundred times—I’d do anything to earn Eli back his grace. Anything. But this? Would I kill a friend for him? Could I?

  Rumyal charged at me again. He didn’t slow down, and this time his sword caught the hem of my blouse, slicing off two inches, the airy material wafting to the floor like a lost feather. “Rumyal, don’t make me do this.”

  “You
betrayed us,” he said, his voice low, practically a growl. “You betrayed the archangel. You traded victory for us all on a fool’s hope for one. You’re pathetic. Every breath you take is an insult. I will end you.”

  “No. Please listen,” I said, but Rumyal charged toward me, and I couldn’t move.

  My brain spun in circles. He wasn’t wrong. I’d been thinking in terms of me and Eli, what this plan would cost me, what it would cost him. I didn’t really stop to think how many other people would have to pay to fix what I’d done to Eli. I thought I didn’t care. I was wrong.

  Rumyal barreled toward me, faster than a human could track, faster than anything on Earth, but in my fuzzed brain, he moved horror-movie slow. I blinked, and the gleam of his sword sparked as it sliced through the air toward my neck. I watched it come.

  “Hell’s spawn!” Michael suddenly stood in front of me. He caught Rumyal’s blade on the upswing, his strength knocking the lesser angel off his feet, launching him backward. He landed hard on his ass eight feet away with a loud grunt of pain.

  I raced to Rumyal, kneeling beside him, then helped him push up on his elbows. “Are you okay? C’mon, Rumyal. Just leave. You and I can have it out later, but you can’t fight Michael. You can’t win. Go home. Please.”

  Michael looked back at me, pissed as hell. “You’d let him kill you rather than take his life? A Fallen? Foolish woman.”

  I met his eyes, but cotton balls packed my brain. I couldn’t think. Did I want to die? No. Did that mean I had to kill Rumyal, my friend, Eli’s friend, to survive? I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. There had to be another way.

  “Traitor.” The fallen angel pushed me away and got to his feet, readying his sword. “I’m not afraid to end, archangel. Are you?”

  The archangel huffed. He turned, a kind of growl rumbling out of him. “Hell’s spawn.”

  “Rumyal, no.” I jumped to stop him, but Rumyal moved a half second before me.

  He raced toward the archangel. Faster than that, Michael’s seraphim sword ripped toward him, practically glowing in the early morning darkness. Shoulder muscles rolled under the snug fit of Michael’s T-shirt as he swung, his blade cutting through the air like lightning. Rumyal didn’t have time to think, to react, to defend. The impact was quick, Michael’s blade mercifully sharp. A fine ribbon of thick gray mist spilled from the sudden line across Rumyal’s neck, his spirit escaping the confines of his body.

  “No!” My scream tore out of my throat.

  The Fallen managed three steps, moving past the archangel before he stopped, his face slack, emotionless. When he turned his neck to look back at Michael, the line grew wider, mist rolling out like fog. His head lolled back farther and farther until it finally fell from his body.

  Rumyal’s legs buckled, and a brilliant light burst from the stump on his shoulders. Like a star going nova, the light exploded out of him, encompassing his entire body. I raised a hand, shielding my eyes. And then like a black hole, the light sucked inward where Rumyal had stood, drawing the brilliance of his spirit so hard and quick it tugged at my blouse and rustled my hair. With a palpable pop, the light, Rumyal, were gone, and the wind died away.

  Michael had killed him, returning him to the divine spirit, he’d say. I knew from experience there was no coming back from that. It was as good as dead, though the angels didn’t see it as finite as that. He’d return to the spirit from which he’d been created and so, in theory, could be created again, though never exactly the same. At least as far as they knew.

  “Rumyal.” I exhaled, still struggling to believe he was gone. “You killed him. Why the fuck did you kill him? What am I going to tell Eli?”

  Michael sheathed his sword at his side, the blade and hilt vanishing the instant his hand moved away. “He’s gone because you cannot commit to your convictions. There is more at stake than you could possibly fathom, woman. I will not leave the fate of all involved to your fickle emotions. If you’re smart, and you truly care for the angel you’ve seduced, you’ll tell him to stay out of your bed. Beyond that, I don’t really give a damn.”

  Chapter Nine

  I teleported to my house instead of back to Eli on the island. I hated the thought of him waking up and finding me gone, but I hated the thought of facing him after watching his friend, Rumyal, die in front of me even more. What would I say? Should I say anything at all, or just wait until he asked, wait until someone else told Eli his friend was dead?

  I didn’t know, and I couldn’t come up with an answer in the time it took me to arrive at my Gram’s old house. Maybe I wanted to avoid a tough situation. Maybe.

  I didn’t bother with locks or doors this time. In the blink of an eye, I went from standing on the boardwalk on Coney Island, New York, to standing in my bathroom in Pittsburgh. I reached behind the shower curtain and twisted the hot water on. While it warmed up I stripped, balled up my ruined blouse and threw it into the trash, and kicked my skirt and undergarments into a pile at the door.

  Thirty minutes later, although clean with washed hair and wrapped in my comfy pink robe, I still didn’t have a clue what I would tell Eli.

  Toweling my hair, I made my way to my bedroom. I walked blind through the doorway with the towel over my head, rubbing my wet hair into one huge knot.

  “This is becoming a habit,” Eli said.

  I shrieked before I could stop myself, whipping off the towel. “Eli, you scared the wits out of me.” I caught my breath.

  He sat on the end of our bed, shoulders sagging and eyes downcast.

  Crap. “What’s becoming a habit?”

  “You sneaking out of our bed.” His soft blue eyes swung up to mine. “Where have you been?”

  “Oh. Sorry. I, uh, needed to check on something at the shop.” I turned my back to hide my cringe. Dammit. I hated lying to him. It made my chest hurt. Lucky for me, Eli normally didn’t pry.

  “Alone?” Increasingly familiar anger edged his voice.

  I glanced over my shoulder, squeezing the ends of my hair dry. “Um, yeah. Why?” I tossed the towel toward the hamper. It caught the edge then fell onto the growing pile on the floor. There were more clothes outside the hamper than in. Go figure.

  “I smell seraphim.” He tightened his jaw.

  “You can smell them?”

  He nodded then waited for me to explain. God, I was a sucky girlfriend.

  I turned back to my dresser and busied myself digging for a clean nightshirt. It was nearly six a.m., but I was dead tired and just wanted to crawl under the covers and forget about how the day had already gone downhill.

  “Y’know, same old same old,” I said. “He surprised me. But I got away without either of us dying.” It was partially true.

  “Who?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. You know they all look alike to me. It happened fast. I didn’t get that good of a look.”

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t keep the truth from him. “But there’s, um, something I have to tell you. Rumyal was there. Someone texted him. Tricked him into coming. He said he didn’t recognize the number. When he saw the seraph, he got so angry. They fought. He didn’t make it.”

  “Rumyal is gone?” His voice trembled, but not so much that anyone but me would’ve noticed.

  I turned to face him, held my breath, and forced myself to meet his eyes. “I tried to convince him to stop. To come find you, but he wouldn’t. He was angry to find me there with a seraph. He thought I’d betrayed Jukar and everyone. He thought I’d betrayed you.”

  Eli scoffed, though the pain in his eyes remained. “You would never do such a thing.”

  I shook my head, my stomach twisting painfully. I swallowed hard. “No. I would never betray you.”

  Eli gave a solemn nod, his beautiful eyes glistening. “He was a good friend. At least his suffering is over. I’ll let Jukar know. If he doesn’t already. You’re okay, though? Yes? You weren’t hurt. You’re sure of it.”

  I nodded, tears wetting my cheeks, and ru
shed to him. I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Eli. I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t answer for several seconds. He buried his face in my neck, his breaths warm and shaky against my skin. Finally he lifted his head, kissed my temple, and pushed me to my feet.

  “Are you angry?” I asked.

  He looked at me, brows furrowed. “Angry? No. At whom?”

  I rolled a shoulder, turning back to my dresser. I grabbed a nightshirt without really looking and balled it in my hand. “At the seraphim. At me.”

  A faint smile lifted his mouth. “Of course not.” He sighed as though he were about to explain something very complicated to a very stupid child. “I am a Fallen, Emma Jane. This life, this roller coaster of pain and loss, is my punishment. To be hunted. To know my spirit or the spirit of someone I call friend could be snuffed out at any moment is the life I chose. It’s time you accept it. It’s time we both accept it. I forfeited my grace, turned my back on my seraphim brothers, and defied the Father. It’s done. There’s no going back.”

  I took a step toward him. “But if you could, you’d want that, right? You’d do anything to be forgiven, wouldn’t you?”

  He stood. “No.”

  “But you said you would. You said if it was possible you’d want to go home.” My hands squeezed the balled T-shirt in my hands, terrified I’d made a huge mistake, that this was all for nothing.

  “I said if it were possible, I would like to have the love of my brothers again.” He waved a hand. “I never said I would do anything to gain it. My brothers do not forgive the sins I’ve committed. They never have. Ever. And even if they did, the cost of their forgiveness would be far more than I am willing to pay.”

  “Okay. But what if someone made the choice for you, paid the price—?”

  “Stop it.” Eli’s voice boomed. “Stop living in this fantasy that we’re somehow better than the rest of them.”

  “We are,” I said.

  “We’re not. We’re just like them.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m just like them. I made a choice. I’m okay with the consequences. But they’re my consequences. Not yours.”